


Parasite

by goopeculiar



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: (i guess), Body Horror, Horror, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 10:48:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21242855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goopeculiar/pseuds/goopeculiar
Summary: In desperate need of a change of scenery, Baekhyun purchases a suspiciously cheap house in the countryside, only to find that it hides more secrets than he could ever prepare for.





	Parasite

**Author's Note:**

> don't let the meetcute fool you, this is actually a horror story.

The house is much larger than anything Baekhyun had in mind, and definitely much larger than anything he actually needs. A two story, Victorian style farmhouse with a covered porch that wraps around three sides of the building and bay windows that face a small creek on the backside.

“It has three bedrooms and one and a half bathrooms,” mr. Cline, the realtor, tells him as he shows him around the massive place. The floorboards are dark wood, the walls lined with lighter panels and painted a warm cream tone. There's a modern-looking kitchen, an arched doorway opening up to a dining room with a heavy, oak table seating eight. In the living room, a leather couch and a coffee table sit on a Persian rug big enough to nearly cover the floor from wall to wall. The winding staircase creaks as they climb it. “The master bathroom up here was renovated recently so the tiles are brand new.”

“Hm,” Baekhyun says, pausing to study the square marks along the walls where the paint is just a slightly different tone, like something had been hanging there until very recently. He waves off a particularly incessant fly that seems intent on stalking him and continues his ascend.

All three of the bedrooms are upstairs. There's the master bedroom with its king sized bed and a balcony overlooking the creek, and two smaller rooms, one with walls painted green and purple and containing a bed fit for a child, the other with pink- and white-striped wallpaper. Baekhyun stares at the crib in the corner, at the colorful butterfly mobile hanging above it. “Obviously you can redecorate these rooms however you want if you'll be living here alone,” mr. Cline says with a chuckle as he quickly closes the door. “Now, let me show you the sunroom.”

Once they're back outside, Baekhyun immediately lights up a smoke. He stares up at the looming house with its black trims and intimidating spires. “This house is huge,” he comments. “Why is it selling for so cheap?” It's easily twice the size of all the other houses mr. Cline has shown him so far, and Baekhyun had initially balked at the square footage when he saw it on paper, but mr. Cline had assured him that the price was within the budget they had pre-determined.

“Well,” mr. Cline says, wiping the sweat off his brow with a handkerchief he keeps in his pocket. Baekhyun doesn't understand why he decided to wear a full suit in this sweltering weather. This sudden, late-Autumn heatwave that has taken them all by surprise. The humidity in the air is stifling. “The previous owners left their furniture behind, so there will be some extra expenses if you want to get rid of it. I can give you the number of a local guy, who can help you with that.”

Baekhyun takes another drag of his cigarette. “Why'd they leave it all behind?”

“They were moving to a larger city in another state and didn't want to go through the hassle of taking all their furniture with them.” A bead of sweat trickles from mr. Cline's receding hairline and down the side of his neck. He wipes that away, too. “There's also, uhm... there's a bit of a fly problem.”

Baekhyun raises his eyebrows. “A fly problem?”

“It's farmland all around here.” Mr. Cline spreads his arms out in an encompassing motion. “Whenever they fertilize the fields, it tends to attract quite a few flies.” Baekhyun hums. His pensiveness seems to make mr. Cline uneasy. “But! It's nothing a few fly traps shouldn't be able to handle.” Fly traps. Right.

Taking a deep breath, Baekhyun closes his eyes. If he listens, really listens, he can hear the faint, rushing echo of the highway in the distance. Other than that, it's the sound of trickling water, the sound of chirping birds, the sound of wind rustling the trees. There are no car horns honking or blaring sirens or loud music or people laughing, yelling, crying. Where the other houses he had been shown had neighbors within walking distance, this one is secluded. There are no people, here. It's exactly what Baekhyun needs.

Baekhyun drops the cigarette butt and stomps it out. “I'll take it,” he says. “I'm buying the house.”

  


“How's the rural life treatin' ya?” Jongdae asks in the worst Southern accent mankind has ever witnessed, and Baekhyun huffs. Five seconds into the first conversation they've had in a week and Jongdae is already being a pest.

“It's quiet,” Baekhyun says. It's been raining, today, fat drops pelting against the shingles above him as he smokes on the porch. He sandwiches the cellphone between his cheek and shoulder to zip up his hoodie. The days are hot, but the nights are starting to get colder already. “Reception's shit. I called a guy about it a few days ago, but he won't have time to come all the way out here until next week.”

“That's what you get for deciding to move to the middle of fucking nowhere.” Baekhyun huffs again. In the background of the call, he can hear the sounds of cars passing by and people chattering. He misses it, but he doesn't miss it. It's like Jongdae can read his mind. “Hey, Baek, you're aware there's always a space for you here, right? You know, if you ever decide to come back to the city.”

Baekhyun does know. He knows he would only have to say a single word and Jongdae would have housing sorted out for him faster than Baekhyun would even be able to purchase a plane ticket, but right now he needs... this. To get away from it all, from his vices, the parties, the drugs that were always too plentiful and too easily available. From _her. _ “This will be good for me. Getting some fresh air. Clearing my head. Beating this shitty writer's block, hopefully.” _Hopefully._

“Sure.” There's the jingle of a bell as Jongdae enters a store. He's probably at _Beanjuice _again to ogle that cute, new barista they got shortly before Baekhyun moved away. God, he misses coffee. He needs to find out where he can get some. “Just... stay in touch, alright? I know how you get when you're alone with your own mind for too long.” Baekhyun knows that as well.

  


To no one's surprise, Baekhyun's supply of instant ramen and canned foods can only last him so long. He wakes one morning to find that his reserves have run dry, even though he could have sworn he didn't eat it all that quickly. For a while he considers staving off the hunger with cigarettes, at least until he's had time to shower, but his stomach protests the idea of not being fed immediately, and so he throws on a pair of sweatpants, yanks a beanie over his greasy hair and leaves for the closest grocery store.

The nearby town is small. Then again, Baekhyun is used to the hustle and bustle of New York City at its worst, almost everything would seem miniscule in comparison. He certainly draws a lot of looks from the locals as he drives down the main street in his Audi, familiarizing himself with his new surroundings and simultaneously searching for a place to buy some supplies.

Park's Family Mart is small, too, but it has everything Baekhyun needs right now. He hums along to the soft rock playing over the speakers as he peruses the aisles, putting eggs and milk and butter into his basket along with probably too many packs of ramen. He steers clear of the liquor, but hesitates in front of the personal lubricant for a moment before adding that to the basket as well along with a packet of condoms. It never hurts to be prepared.

There's no one by the counter when Baekhyun finally gets there. He taps the bell next to the register and hears shuffling coming from the back. Shortly after, a tall figure appears from behind a curtain. His name tag says _Chanyeol, _his handsome smile makes Baekhyun wish he had taken that shower, after all. Self-consciously, he fidgets with the edge of his beanie. “Hello,” the person presumably named Chanyeol greets. “Sorry to keep you waiting, I was just stocking up in the back.” He starts scanning and bagging Baekhyun's items right away.

“You're like the only non-white person I've seen since I got here,” Baekhyun says because he's a stupid idiot.

Luckily, Chanyeol just chuckles. “Yeah, people of color are few and far between, but we're here. You just have to know where to look.” He meets Baekhyun's gaze for the first time, and he cocks his head slightly to the side. Baekhyun is reminded of a puppy. Golden retriever. “Just passing through? I would definitely have remembered seeing you before.” There's an emphasis on 'definitely', though Baekhyun won't delude himself into believing it means anything other than reaffirming the lack of minorities.

“I moved here recently.”

“Oh, you're in the Willow Creek house.” Baekhyun blinks. Chanyeol looks a little sheepish. “Not a lot of people move to this area, but that house has been through quite a few owners over the years. I imagine the upkeep is difficult cause it's such an old structure and it's so far away from everything. You really need to have the money for it.” Baekhyun hums noncommittally, knowing that money won't be an issue for him. For some reason unbeknownst to Baekhyun, Chanyeol keeps going: “When I was in middle school, me and my friends used to play in the creek during the summertime when the weather got real hot, but the mean old lady, who lived in the house, would threaten to call the cops on us. I wonder what happened to her.”

“Do you always talk so much to strangers?” Baekhyun asks. It's cute, kind of, but he also just really wants to purchase his groceries so he can finally get something to eat. His stomach rumbles in strong agreeance.

“Only when I'm trying to make a good first impression,” Chanyeol beams.

Baekhyun snorts. “Consider me impressed.” He lets his gaze drag over the length of Chanyeol's body. The corners of his lips tug upwards in a smirk at Chanyeol's pleased expression. Baekhyun is definitely coming back here.

  


Nights are the worst. It's both too quiet and not quiet enough. Baekhyun has long grown accustomed to tuning out the endless noise of a city that never sleeps, but with a new environment comes new sounds. Unfamiliar sounds. There's a fly somewhere in the room, buzzing around. The wind rustles the leaves on the large trees outside his window, and the old house sighs with every gust of air.

Most noticeable are the noises coming from directly above Baekhyun's bed. He lies awake, staring up at the ceiling and listening for the scuffling sound he swears he heard just a moment ago. He shuts his eyes. The ceiling creaks. He opens his eyes. The ceiling creaks again, and Baekhyun holds his breath, but nothing more happens. It's probably just the house settling, he tells himself as he squeezes his eyes tightly closed and tries to fall asleep. And the scuffling? Rats in the attic, maybe. He never even looked in the attic.

In the morning, Baekhyun goes exploring. He checks every room, every unopened doorway and every ceiling to search for a possible stairwell or a ladder or_ something._ He finds closets and spare storage rooms, but no stairs. All the ceilings are smooth with no signs that there is or ever has been a hatch leading to the attic. This house probably doesn't have one, he deduces, and he stops trying to look for it.

Baekhyun tells Jongdae about the noises the next time he calls. “Don't be a white family in a horror movie about this,” Jongdae says. “If there's creepy shit going on, get the fuck out.”

“This house is beautiful, Jongdae.” Baekhyun is out smoking on the porch again – on the porch because that seems to be the only place where the reception actually works right now, smoking because that's the one habit he hasn't been able to leave behind. “And huge. I can finally live out my dream of becoming one of those people, who adopts seventeen dogs, and then when I die all alone, they'll find my corpse partially eaten.”

“That's grim,” Jongdae says after a beat of silence. “Are you alright?”

Baekhyun can't help the way his knee starts to bounce. “Fine. Just in a mood, I guess.”

Jongdae hums. He always knew Baekhyun too well. “How's writing?” Baekhyun's self-deprecating guffaw is all the answer he needs. “It'll come, man. Once you're settled in completely, you can focus on that. Give it some time.” Baekhyun feels like he's given it plenty of time. His publisher seems to agree, what with all the emails Baekhyun has left unopened and unanswered in his inbox over the past few weeks.

  


Did Baekhyun really run out of eggs already? It's only been a couple of days since he was at the store, how can he possibly be down to his last two? He stares at the nearly empty carton of twelve, trying to think about what he could have used them for – he does eat a lot of eggs since that's the only thing he can cook mostly successfully, but twelve seems excessive. He sighs, and decides to make an omelette for breakfast. He'll just have to go back to town sooner than expected.

At least Chanyeol seems happy to see him again. “Hey, stranger,” he greets, scanning Baekhyun's items. “Guess you couldn't stay away from my captivating presence any longer, huh?”

“Guess not,” Baekhyun mutters. He hands cash over to Chanyeol and taps his fingers against the counter as Chanyeol figures out the change. “This your store?”

“My parents',” Chanyeol explains. “We made a deal. They paid for me to go to Berklee so I could pursue music, but if I hadn't found work two years after graduation, I would have to come back here and help run the family business, so... here I am.” He chuckles wryly. “I knew doing music professionally would be difficult. It was even harder than anticipated.” His expression twists, suddenly. “Sorry, I'm over-sharing again, aren't I?”

Baekhyun doesn't mind. Chanyeol has a pleasant voice, and listening to him talk is soothing. “Working in creative fields is an uphill battle.” Baekhyun knows that all too well. It had taken a lot out of him to make it as a writer. He stares at Chanyeol's large hands, the calluses at the tips of his fingers. “What instrument did you play? Guitar?” Chanyeol nods, and Baekhyun lets a slow, sly smile stretch across his face. “That's hot. Guitarists are usually good with their hands.”

There's a darkness in Chanyeol eyes as he appraises Baekhyun, like he has turned off the regular customer service friendliness and tapped into something else entirely. His chuckle is still somewhat sheepish, though. “You know, you never even told me your name.”

Baekhyun reaches a hand across the counter for Chanyeol to shake. “Baekhyun Byun.”

“Chanyeol Park,” Chanyeol officially introduces himself, even though Baekhyun already put that together from the tag on Chanyeol's shirt and the store's name. Chanyeol's calluses are rough against Baekhyun's skin, and Baekhyun can't help but wonder what it would feel like on other parts of his body. “Listen, if you ever need help with anything around the house, I'll be happy to come over some time. I've been told I'm good with my hands.” He winks, and it's gross and cheesy, and Baekhyun is a stupid idiot for finding it so charming.

  


Baekhyun slides his lubed up hand over his cock with slow flicks of his wrist. The hold is just on this side of too loose, but he likes to edge himself, sometimes, to drag out his orgasm until he's breathless and aching for release. He thinks of teasing touches from big, callused hands. He thinks of a smile with too many teeth and a deep voice whispering a slew of filthy lines into his ear. It's an image of Chanyeol in his mind, he won't even pretend otherwise.

With a gasp, Baekhyun spills over his fingers. He keeps stroking until he becomes too sensitive, legs twitching, and he has to stop. He grabs a few tissues from the dispenser on the bedside table and wipes himself as clean as possible, then settles back against the pillows to catch his breath.

Along with the itchiness of sweat drying on his skin, he feels something else. More than anything, it's simply a creeping sensation, a slow crawl of shivers up his spine, goosebumps breaking out all over his exposed body. It feels like he's being watched, he realizes, and he glances around the mostly dark room, even though he knows he's alone. Of course he's alone. Of course he doesn't see anything. What could he possibly expect to see?

Nonetheless, he can't quite shake the feeling. He quickly gets up to pull on a pair of boxer briefs before he dives back into bed, dragging the covers all the way up to his ears. It takes a long time for him to fall asleep.

  


The next day, Chanyeol pulls up in front of Baekhyun's house in a pickup truck, because of course he does. He's wearing a red flannel shirt open over a black undershirt, a backwards snapback trapping his unruly hair. Leaning against the doorway, Baekhyun watches with folded arms as Chanyeol walks up the driveway with his toolbox in hand. “You look like your name is Kyle and your primary form of entertainment is shotgunning beers and tipping over cows with your best friend Chad.”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. “This is the thanks I get for offering to help you? I can leave.” He motions to turn around and walk back to his truck, but Baekhyun grabs him by the arm.

“No, please, I'm desperate! I'm a man of certain standards, and ten minute hot showers just won't cut it!” The master bathroom had just been renovated, the realtor had told him, and yet whenever Baekhyun tries to take a shower in the morning, the water starts running lukewarm far too quickly for his liking. It makes it hard for Baekhyun to get through his usual bath time routine of washing up, having a full one man concert and jerking off. He does most of his best thinking in the shower, too, working out plotlines and character backstories in his mind. It's crucial.

Chanyeol steps into the foyer and spends a moment taking it all in. “I've never actually seen this place from the inside,” he says, looking around with equal parts curiosity and awe. “It's not as bad as they say.”

“Who's 'they'?” Baekhyun asks, and Chanyeol appears as though he's debating whether or not to tell Baekhyun, but in the end he does.

“The people in town. They talk about you, you know. You and this house.”

Baekhyun scoffs. Of course they do. He wouldn't have expected otherwise. Such a small town with such a small population means that anything out of the ordinary is cause for excitement. The way Chanyeol had said it didn't exactly make it sound like a positive thing, though. “What, they don't like me living here? Should I expect to see torches and pitchforks in the near future?”

“They don't like _anyone _living here,” Chanyeol says. “Think the place is haunted by the previous owner.”

Something cold settles in the pit of Baekhyun's stomach. The small hairs at the back of his neck stand up, and he swipes his hand over them to get rid of the goosebumps. He swallows thickly. “And... and what do you think?”

Chanyeol doesn't seem to have noticed anything amiss. “Me?” he says. “I think it's all superstition. Old wives' tales. I don't believe in ghosts.” Baekhyun didn't use to, either, but after moving here he's starting to reconsider. “Anyway, the problem you described seems to be related to your water heater. Mind showing me where it is?”

Next to the kitchen is a room that doubles as a pantry and a boiler room. There are shelves on either side of the door for storage and three steps leading down to the house's heating system. At least that's what Baekhyun has been told. The room has no windows and the light doesn't work, so he has never actually entered it fully. “The water heater should be somewhere in there,” he tells Chanyeol as he gestures vaguely into the darkness. Chanyeol tries the light switch just next to the door, flipping it on and off a few times with no result. “Yeah, that doesn't work.”

“No worries, I have a flashlight.” Chanyeol pulls it out of his toolbox and manages to shine it right into Baekhyun's face. “Oops, sorry,” he says. Baekhyun just huffs, blinking his eyes rapidly. Chanyeol starts walking down the stairs. He quickly notices that Baekhyun isn't following him and turns his head to look back to the doorway where Baekhyun stands, unmoving, teeth clenched. “It's okay, you don't have to stay with me if you don't want to.”

Baekhyun can feel his whole body unclench all at once. “Oh, thank fuck, I fucking hate this room.” Chanyeol grins before disappearing into the darkness.

Sitting on one of the tall bar stools by the kitchen island, Baekhyun stares at the screen of his laptop where an empty Word document stares back at him. The cursor blinks like a taunt at the left side of the screen, as though it's counting down the seconds to his imminent demise. His latest book was a cliché-ridden, feelgood rom-com that he didn't feel very passionate about but his publisher had pushed for, and it had somehow managed to appeal to a wide array of audiences and had become more popular than any of his previous releases. Between the anxiety of having to compete with that and the very public breakup he went through in the meantime, Baekhyun hasn't been able to write a single useful word in months. It's frustrating.

He soon hears the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and Chanyeol appears again, looking apologetic. “I don't think your water heater is the problem,” he says. He has taken off his flannel shirt and tied it around his waist, leaving him in just his tanktop. “It seems fine to me.” Baekhyun curses under his breath. And here he was looking forward to taking a long shower tonight. “Could be an issue with the pipes, but I'm not an expert. You should probably contact someone, who is.”

“Thanks anyway,” Baekhyun mutters. He drums his fingers against the countertop as he stares unabashedly at Chanyeol's bare arms. Fuck, he's hot. Baekhyun purses his lips. “I would have prepared lemonade like a cute, little housewife, but even if I had the ingredients for it, I wouldn't know how to make it.”

“Not much of a chef?”

Baekhyun pulls a face. “I can make, like, two types of eggs and anything you just have to add hot water to or put in a microwave. Other than that, I'm a disaster.”

An affronted noise escapes Chanyeol. “You have this fucking fantastic kitchen, and you can't even cook? Blasphemous!” He crosses his arms, which does nothing to divert Baekhyun's attention from them. “Next time I come over, I'm bringing groceries so your blessing of a kitchen won't be wasted.”

Raising his eyebrows, Baekhyun repeats in a smug tone: “Next time?”

“Next time,” Chanyeol agrees, unfaltering, though there's color in his cheeks like his determination is mostly for show. “Maybe I'll bring some fly repellent as well.” He bats at the small insect that has taken to buzzing around him. Baekhyun wonders if it's one very persistent fly that keeps encroaching on personal space or if they're just all so intrusive.

“Yeah, I've been told it's because of the fertilizer from nearby fields.” Baekhyun waves his hand in an attempt to dismiss the subject. Bugs and fertilizing are both inherently unsexy subjects, and he's trying to flirt here.

Chanyeol shrugs. “I guess,” he says, though he doesn't seem entirely convinced.

  


The baby room would be the perfect room for writing, Baekhyun thinks. There are already several spaces in the house meant for such activities, but neither the study nor the library had gotten Baekhyun any closer to regaining his inspiration. The baby room is in a corner of the house and gets a lot of light throughout the day, and it has a nice view of the creek that creates a soothing atmosphere. It's perfect. And it's definitely not an attempt at procrastinating. He just really needs the right work environment.

Of course that means having to redecorate. He needs to get a desk and a comfortable chair into the room, and he needs to get the crib and the dresser and all the toys out of there. He's not sure why, but something about the crib just gives him the creeps. He also needs to get rid of the strange smell that permeates the room, probably residue from all the diapers that have been changed in here. He had sprayed everything with air freshener right after moving in, but it doesn't seem to have had much of an effect. The smell still lingers.

Now Baekhyun leaves both the door and the windows wide open as he works. It's easy for him to move the crib, seeing as it weighs next to nothing. He pushes it into the other kids' room and gathers all the baby's items to put them into the crib to keep it all in one place. He'll leave it here for storage until he can get someone to pick the things up. Maybe he'll donate them.

All that's left in the room is the giant closet. It's... weird. It doesn't really fit in with any of the other furniture in the house, design oddly clumsy and unpolished, and it's almost intimidatingly big, spanning from the floor all the way to the ceiling. Perhaps the previous owners had decided to leave it since it would be too difficult to have it moved. Baekhyun certainly doubts he'll be able to move it on his own, and when he tries pushing it as a test, that doubt is only confirmed. The closet doesn't budge in the slightest. He'll definitely have to call someone to help him with that.

For now, it can wait. Baekhyun casts a cursory glance around the bare room, proud of his own productivity. In his head, he's already picturing how he's going to decorate it, what kind of furniture he wants to get and where to put it, what color to paint the walls. He gives the whole place another heavy spray of air freshener for good measure before he leaves to let the smell dissipate.

  


Apparently, Chanyeol is quite the home cook. His sister owns a restaurant, he tells Baekhyun, so he has learned a lot from being allowed to help in the kitchen there. Today, he's making chicken and mushroom risotto and a dessert he won't tell Baekhyun what is. Baekhyun sits on the counter and observes. He has chosen to wear a soft, too-large sweater that makes him feel cute with the way it keeps slipping off one shoulder. He won't deny that he catches Chanyeol looking every time it happens, and he won't deny that it makes him feel pleased.

Chanyeol holds out a spoon to make Baekhyun taste, and Baekhyun grabs Chanyeol's hand, both to steady the spoon and to watch Chanyeol's eyes darken. His gaze hones in on Baekhyun's mouth as it wraps around the utensil, as it slowly slides off it, as Baekhyun licks his lips. Baekhyun makes a show out of enjoying it. “Delicious,” he says. “You're good.”

“I try,” Chanyeol chuckles hoarsely. He's still staring at Baekhyun's mouth, and if Baekhyun had been a more self-conscious man, he might have blushed. As it is, he just smirks. Somehow that seems to shake Chanyeol out of his stupor, and when he realizes how close they are, how far into Baekhyun's personal space he's gotten, he quickly takes a step back, much to Baekhyun's chagrin. He quite liked having Chanyeol so close. Chanyeol's face lights up like he suddenly remembered something. “Oh yeah.” He reaches into the pocket of his jeans to pull out his car keys and tosses them to Baekhyun. “I forgot the wine in the car, can you go get it? I can't really leave this.”

Baekhyun blanches. Wine? That's... Right, of course Chanyeol wouldn't know. How would he? Baekhyun fidgets with the car keys and doesn't move from his spot. “Uhm. Is this a good time to tell you that I'm kind of a recovering alcoholic?” He tries to make his tone light, though he can't keep the tremor out of his voice. He hadn't looked at Chanyeol while dropping the bomb, but since Chanyeol has been quiet for a worrying amount of time, Baekhyun chances a glance at him.

He finds Chanyeol staring at him. He meets Baekhyun's eyes straight on, intense, like he's trying to figure out if Baekhyun is joking or not. The thing is, for once Baekhyun isn't. “There's a story there,” Chanyeol finally says. Baekhyun lets out a wry bark of laughter. Isn't there always? “It's up to you whether you want to tell me or not.”

Baekhyun's mouth twists. “Finish your risotto,” he says, nodding in the direction of the pan Chanyeol stopped stirring.

Later, after they've had their dinner (delicious) and have migrated to the living room couch with their tiramisu (also delicious), Baekhyun chooses to tell Chanyeol about why he moved here. It's a long story, starting with Baekhyun dating an up-and-coming actress, first in secret, then publicly. Very publicly. He talks about his book breaking records and how he earned more money than he knew what to do with. How he spent that money on all the wrong things. The story ends with Baekhyun finding out about his girlfriend's multiple affairs through gossip magazines and the resulting addictions he spiraled into.

Chanyeol lets Baekhyun talk and only interrupts to ask him to elaborate on certain things. His expression speaks enough for him, anyway. Chanyeol doesn't have to say anything for Baekhyun to know what he's feeling. He wears his heart on his sleeve, apparently. “So you came here to get away from it all,” Chanyeol concludes at the end.

“Yeah,” Baekhyun mutters. It hurts to talk about it, but at the same time it also feels good. Cathartic. “I let go of everything I had back there, cut contact with everyone. _Almost _everyone.” He thinks of Jongdae, who had found him, drunk and drugged out of his mind, and convinced him that he needed to get help. He thinks of Kyungsoo, who is not only his editor, but also a friend. Baekhyun had finally gathered the courage to open his unread emails, only to find that while some of them did request updates on his writing progress, most of them had been asking about his well-being. It had been Kyungsoo, who talked the publishing company into giving Baekhyun some leniency after the heartbreak he went through. Baekhyun chews idly on his thumb. “Sorry to unload all this on you. I won't be mad if you decide to run away now. Well, I'll probably be a little mad, but... I'll understand, at least.”

“I'm not going to run,” Chanyeol says sincerely. “I appreciate you sharing this with me, Baekhyun. Really.” Baekhyun hums. He quickly shovels several bites of tiramisu into his mouth to keep himself busy and stave off the awkwardness he feels. He has never been one for oversharing. Not even his therapist knows this much, probably. Chanyeol shifts restlessly, like he wants to say something but isn't sure how to, and he does a couple of false starts before finally blurting out: “So... you had a girlfriend?”

Baekhyun isn't sure what it is that makes him snort. Probably the crack in Chanyeol's voice. “Yup.”

“I see, I see.” Chanyeol nods. He scrunches up his face. “But I thought... I mean, I'm sorry if I misunderstood everything, but I was under the impression that you've been flirting with me.”

Slowly, Baekhyun raises his eyebrows. It occurs to him that Chanyeol is being serious. Baekhyun puts down his dessert plate. “Oh, I have been. I am.” He thought he was pretty obvious about it, too. It's not like he was trying to hide it. At all.

Chanyeol's brow furrows. “But you had a girlfriend?” Oh. _Girl_friend. So that's what this is about.

With a snort, Baekhyun leans in to poke Chanyeol in the forehead. “Allow me to blow your little, country boy brain,” he says. “Here's a wild concept: it doesn't have to be one or the other. It can be both, it can be neither, it can be everything in between. Sexuality is a fluid spectrum. Yes, my latest romantic partner was a woman, but that doesn't mean I don't like anything else. I just like beautiful people.”

Chanyeol grumbles about how he knows you can like more than one gender, and Baekhyun grins. He's cute. “And me?” Chanyeol asks, then. Chest puffed, chin up, false bravado.

“What about you?” Baekhyun retorts airily, like he doesn't know what Chanyeol means. Chanyeol lets out an impatient whine. Golden retriever. Baekhyun huffs, shoves his shoulder. “Stop fishing for compliments, you know you're attractive. I've seen you checking yourself out.”

“Yeah, but... am I beautiful?” And Baekhyun suddenly understands what Chanyeol is asking, really asking. _Am I beautiful? Do you like me?_

Baekhyun moves with all the motions of a large feline as he crawls across the couch to sit astride Chanyeol's lap. Chanyeol lets him, even tilts his head back against the backrest to look up at Baekhyun as Baekhyun runs his fingers through Chanyeol's hair. He's staring at Baekhyun's lips again. “You?” Baekhyun says. Whispers, really. There's barely any space between them at all. “You are very beautiful.” Chanyeol's smile is even more breathtaking up close, and his hand is warm against the curve of Baekhyun's jaw when he pulls Baekhyun in for a kiss.

Baekhyun loves how responsive Chanyeol is – moaning when Baekhyun sucks on his tongue, shuddering when Baekhyun bites his bottom lip, leaning eagerly into Baekhyun's every touch like he doesn't want them to ever stop touching. Chanyeol pulls away from the kiss to mouth down the side of Baekhyun's neck. Of its own accord, Baekhyun's body goes lax against Chanyeol's, his jaw hanging slack. God, that is his weakest spot. He could probably come from nothing but grinding against Chanyeol while Chanyeol sucked on his neck just like this. “This fucking shirt,” Chanyeol growls. He scrapes his teeth against Baekhyun's collarbone, causing Baekhyun to gasp, hand fisting in Chanyeol's hair. “Wanted to put my mouth on you all night.”

“Good,” Baekhyun smirks. “That was the intention.” He pulls Chanyeol's head back by the hair so he can lick into his mouth again, and he spreads his knees a little further apart on the couch cushions so he can grind fully down on Chanyeol's crotch. Chanyeol grips his waist tightly. Tight enough to bruise, probably. _Hopefully. _

Chanyeol is so hot under Baekhyun, so hard. He slides his hands under Baekhyun's oversized shirt, skin on skin, pressing Baekhyun closer and closer still. He lifts his hips off the couch to meet Baekhyun halfway. Baekhyun is feeling a little overwhelmed by it all. He isn't sure what causes it. Maybe it's because he hasn't had this kind of intimacy in a while, maybe it's the reverence in Chanyeol's gaze that doesn't falter, not even once. “What do you want?” Chanyeol pants against Baekhyun's lips, breath hot and humid on Baekhyun's chin.

“Want you to–” Baekhyun's sentence is cut off by a sharp gasp when Chanyeol's thumbs find his nipples. “Want you to fuck me.” If possible, Chanyeol's eyes go even darker.

They get distracted several times on the way to the bedroom. Once when they're going up the stairs, and Chanyeol can't help himself from grabbing Baekhyun's ass as he's walking ahead of him. A second time when Baekhyun pushes Chanyeol against the wall in the upstairs hallway, undoes his belt and zipper and drops to a crouch to mouth at Chanyeol's dick through his underwear. Lastly, just outside the bedroom, where Chanyeol has finally had enough of that offending sweater and decides to take it off, leaving Baekhyun's hair a wild mess.

Baekhyun sheds the rest of his clothes before getting on the bed. He sprawls out on the mattress in all his naked glory, unabashed. Here, Chanyeol pauses. He lets his eyes roam over Baekhyun's body. His throat bobs when he swallows. “I might be a bit out of practice with this,” Chanyeol admits. “It's been a while.”

It's been a while for Baekhyun, too. He hasn't had sex with anyone since his latest relationship, and it's been even longer than that since he bottomed. “Yeah, me too.” Baekhyun raises himself up on his elbows to be able to see Chanyeol better. “Take off your clothes.” He watches as Chanyeol's body is revealed bit by bit, golden skin, lean muscle, and his cock, hanging hot and heavy between his legs. Baekhyun wants it in his mouth, fuck, he really does. Next time, he promises himself. He'll make sure there's going to be a next time just for that.

Chanyeol crawls over Baekhyun's body to settle between his willingly parting legs. His hips jerk forward when Baekhyun wraps a fingers around his dick. “Fuck,” he whispers under his breath, thrusting forward into Baekhyun's grip.

“There's lube in the nightstand,” Baekhyun says. Without taking his eyes off Baekhyun's hand, Chanyeol reaches out to blindly rummage through the drawer until he apparently finds what he's looking for. He procures both lube and a condom, leaving the latter on the mattress and focusing on popping open the bottle. He coats his fingers generously and motions to reciprocate Baekhyun's handjob, but Baekhyun shakes his head. “Don't bother. Need you in me.”

Chanyeol's breath shudders. “You've got a filthy mouth on you,” he rumbles.

“If you're a good boy, I'll show you what else this mouth can do.” Baekhyun moans at the first contact, a teasing circle rubbed against his rim. A single finger slides in with surprising ease, and Chanyeol's eyes finally flit up to look at Baekhyun, who smiles crookedly. “I was hoping this would happen tonight,” he reveals. “Got myself ready for it.” Chanyeol curses again, his cock jolting in Baekhyun's hand.

Still, Chanyeol goes slow. His fingers are long and thick and feel so good, and Baekhyun is a writhing mess by the time they've worked their way up to three. That's when Chanyeol curls his fingers and presses up to massage his prostate, and Baekhyun lets out a whimper and starts begging Chanyeol to stop or he's going to come. “Go ahead,” Chanyeol says, moves not faltering. “I don't mind making you come more than once.”

Baekhyun shouts as he shoots his release all over his stomach and chest. Chanyeol fingers him through the waves of his orgasm, only stopping when Baekhyun grabs his hand to make him. He doesn't let him pull out, though. “I like the fullness after I come,” Baekhyun mutters as way of explanation. He clenches around the digits just to watch the way it affects Chanyeol. “Give me a minute.”

Chanyeol hums. “Alright.” He leans in to give Baekhyun a lazy kiss, then moves further down to lick and bite and suck at Baekhyun nipples. Baekhyun can still feel Chanyeol's dick against his leg, a very obvious reminder that he hasn't come yet, though he doesn't appear to be in a rush, instead seeming rather content to keep mouthing across Baekhyun's chest and collarbones.

It gets Baekhyun worked up fast, too. Usually he would take a little longer than this to recuperate, but he soon finds himself reaching for the discarded condom. “Minute over,” he declares as he tosses the square foil packet at Chanyeol.

Chanyeol's fingers are slippery with lube, so in the end Baekhyun has to help him unwrap and roll on the condom. He gives Chanyeol's dick a few extra strokes for good measure. Chanyeol drives his hips forward like he can't help himself. It's Baekhyun, who positions Chanyeol's cock, too, but it's Chanyeol, who pushes in and in and in, until he bottoms out, until his hips align perfectly with Baekhyun's ass, until Baekhyun feels so full he can barely breathe. He still manages to grit out an order for Chanyeol to start moving, and Chanyeol does.

At first, Chanyeol is slow with this as well, pulling out so just the head of his dick is holding Baekhyun open, then pushing back in, every hot inch of him sliding against Baekhyun's slick insides. He's holding himself off Baekhyun's body so he can look Baekhyun in the eye. It's like he's watching Baekhyun's expression to make sure he's not hurting him. “Okay?”

“Harder,” Baekhyun demands, and Chanyeol obeys like the good puppy he is. He listens so well. He sits back a little and starts fucking into Baekhyun with strong thrusts that shove Baekhyun further and further up the bed before Baekhyun grabs a hold of the headboard to stay in place. Chanyeol is looking down at where their bodies are connected, enthralled. Baekhyun wishes he could watch as well, see the way his rim stretches around Chanyeol, the way Chanyeol's fat dick pounds into him, the way Chanyeol's hands on his thighs spreads him wide apart. Baekhyun can't see it, but he can definitely feel it. Everything feels so intense. Even though he already came once, he's rapidly heading for the edge.

Apparently, so is Chanyeol. “I'm close,” he gasps. He allows himself to fall forward with his elbows braced on each side of Baekhyun's head. Like this, Chanyeol's movements speed up, every thrust punctuated by one of Baekhyun's moans. Their hips slap together with an obscene sound. Baekhyun reaches down to get a hand on himself, and he feels Chanyeol's cock pulse deep within him at the same time as Chanyeol tenses up, then goes limp. Chanyeol came, Baekhyun realizes. He wraps his legs around Chanyeol to make him stay inside while he strokes himself to release. It's a smaller amount, this time, but it's release nonetheless, sticky between their bodies.

There's something strangely soothing about having another person on top of you. Baekhyun isn't sure why, but feeling Chanyeol's weight pinning him down makes him feel grounded in a way he hasn't felt in a long time. At the same time, though, Chanyeol is also a very big man, and thus very heavy. Breathing is starting to become a struggle. Baekhyun brushes his fingers through Chanyeol's hair. “I don't want you to move, but I'm getting crushed.”

Chanyeol lifts himself off Baekhyun, but leans in to kiss him, soft and slow, before moving any further. He pulls out his now limp dick, ties off the condom, and says he'll be right back. He returns with a warm washcloth, which he uses to wipe Baekhyun clean with, and when Baekhyun starts to shiver from the cold air in the room, Chanyeol tucks him in as well and slides under the covers next to him, cuddling close. “You're amazing,” Chanyeol whispers. His fingers dance down the front of Baekhyun's body, down between his legs to stroke tenderly at his puffy rim, fingers just barely dipping inside.

Baekhyun sighs in content. He spreads his legs a little to give Chanyeol more room to play. “You're not half bad yourself,” he murmurs. Chanyeol presses a kiss just below Baekhyun's ear, nuzzles his nose into his neck.

In the silence that follows, the ceiling starts to creak again. Chanyeol twists to look up at it, brow furrowing. “Doesn't that kind of sound like footsteps?”

“The house does that sometimes,” Baekhyun sighs. He's tired, now. He just wants to sleep.

“The house sometimes sounds like someone's walking around in your attic?” Baekhyun's eyelids are too heavy for him to keep them open. He tells Chanyeol that there is no attic, that he checked every room of the house for an entrance and found nothing. “That's strange,” Chanyeol muses. “Most other houses around here has an attic.”

“Mhm,” is all Baekhyun responds, and if Chanyeol says anything else, Baekhyun doesn't hear it.

  


It's way too early when Baekhyun wakes up, he can feel it in his bones. He cracks one eye open and finds Chanyeol watching him with a smile on his face. The morning light filters through the window and bathes Chanyeol in hues of gold. Literally golden. “Good morning.”

“What time is it?” Baekhyun slurs. His voice is hoarse. There's something crusting over on his cheek, probably drool. He's sure he must be making a charming impression.

“Almost seven,” Chanyeol responds, and Baekhyun groans and grumbles about it being too early to be alive. He wants to bury himself in this bed and never rise again. Chanyeol smiles apologetically. “I have to leave soon. I need to open the store at eight, and I should go home and get some clean clothes first.”

Baekhyun pouts. The closer he is to sleep, the smaller is his aversion to acting cute. “And here I was hoping I could wake you up with my mouth around your dick.”

“Raincheck,” Chanyeol says and kisses the top of his head. “I'll call you later, alright?”

“Might not answer,” Baekhyun says. “Gonna try to write. I usually turn off my phone to minimize disturbances.” He rubs his nose with the back of his hand and stretches his arms above his head. His spine pops satisfyingly. “I'll call you back when I can, though.”

“Go back to sleep,” Chanyeol says, and Baekhyun lets out a noise of affirmation, rolls over and knocks out almost immediately.

  


Baekhyun wakes up a little after noon with an entire plot worked out in his mind. Before even getting out of bed, he quickly grabs his phone, opens a note app and writes down a rough outline and a couple of character descriptions before he forgets it all. It's the story of a dancer, who loses his leg in a car accident, and the physiotherapist, who helps him rediscover his will to live. In the notes for the physiotherapist character, Baekhyun writes _tall, big ears, golden retriever._

After a quick shower (he really needs to call someone about the hot water), Baekhyun eats the leftover risotto for lunch. Wasn't there more left when they put it away last night? Perhaps Chanyeol took some of it to eat at work. Baekhyun makes a cup of tea, turns his phone on silent and grabs his laptop. Even with all the effort he put into airing out the room formerly known as the baby room and spraying it with air freshener, it hadn't helped much. The smell is still there. He had begrudgingly scrapped the idea of turning the room into a home office for now, and so he decides to sit in the downstairs study instead.

Baekhyun manages to write out the first couple of pages, and he feels pretty good about what he's accomplished – both his progress as well as the actual writing itself. He usually has a hard time coming up with intros, never knowing how and when to start the story, so getting that out of the way is half the battle. He's in the zone, now. He writes without looking back, and maybe it's all a damn mess, but his first drafts usually are before Kyungsoo gets his hands on them for review.

A distraction comes in the form of the floorboards above Baekhyun creaking, causing him to look up. It's just the house settling, he tells himself for the umpteenth time. Really, how many times has he told himself exactly that? He tries to go back to writing, but it's like a spell has been broken, his mojo run out. Oh well. At least he got something done, for once. He sighs in defeat and spins around on his desk chair with his arms behind his head.

For some reason, he suddenly thinks of Chanyeol's words from last night. Most houses here have an attic, he had said. Baekhyun isn't sure why that stuck with him, but thinking about it makes him feel that prickly sensation crawling under his skin. The same sensation that had come over him in his room a few nights ago where it felt like he was being watched. Most houses have an attic, so why wouldn't Baekhyun's? He spam-saves his document a few more times and attaches it in an email to send to Kyungsoo. Then he decides to take another look around the house.

This time, Baekhyun is more thorough. Equipped with the flashlight Chanyeol let him borrow, he goes through every nook and every cranny of every room of the house, even the scary boiler room that he had glossed over last time he did this. He pats down the walls to feel for anything irregular. He looks for hidden doorways and levers. In the library, he considers pulling out books at random in hopes that one of them would reveal a secret passage, but he leaves that as a last resort as he finds it a bit too implausible. His life isn't a fucking superhero movie.

It's frustrating. Baekhyun doesn't know why, but he can feel himself getting more and more annoyed as each room gets ruled out. Maybe it's because he was interrupted in the middle of a good writing session. Maybe it's the fact that he has been sleeping poorly ever since he moved in because he keeps getting woken up at night by strange noises. Maybe it's just because he hasn't had his coffee today.

The sun is just starting to creep down behind the trees when Baekhyun finally finds something. It's such a small thing, so unremarkable that he nearly misses it, just like he had clearly missed it the first time around. Everything comes down to the baby room, it seems, because when Baekhyun stands at just the right angle in front of the massive closet, he can see just a sliver of wood peeking out above it. It's half an inch, maybe less than that, of something that looks a lot like a doorframe. There's a fucking door behind the closet.

Baekhyun's heart is racing. He tries pushing the closet again, but it doesn't move at all, doesn't sway in the slightest even when he pushes the entire weight of his body against it. He tries shining a flashlight behind the closet, but there's no space between that and the wall. It's almost like it's been fixed in place. Baekhyun walks to the front of the closet and swings open the double doors.

Why has Baekhyun never looked inside this closet before? There are clothes in here. Probably a previous owner's clothes, he thinks, but why would they not take their belongings with them when they moved? He pulls out everything – clothes, hangers, shoes, boxes. By the end of it, the room is left a damn mess, but he can't bring himself to care right now. He has been struck but this incessant need to see this through.

The backboard of the closet is just a smooth, wooden surface. Baekhyun runs his hand along the top edge, down the sides, across the bottom. Here, in the left corner, he finds a small opening. It's just big enough for one of his fingers to fit through, so he pushes it into the hole and pulls experimentally. The board moves. Baekhyun can't breathe. He yanks it to the side, and the entire back of the closet opens up. It's a fucking doorway.

Suddenly, the stench grows much more intense, and Baekhyun has to hold his sleeve in front of his nose and mouth to keep from gagging. It smells dense and sour and sulphuric. It smells like something's rotting. Like something crawled into the walls and died. Rats, maybe, or another small animal? There's an insane amount of flies buzzing around here, too, the sound nearly enough to drown out the heavy thud of Baekhyun's pulse in his ears. It takes a few seconds for him to talk himself into stepping forward onto the platform before him.

In the narrow space between the inner and outer walls of the house is a staircase leading to the right and up. Even when Baekhyun shines his flashlight up there, he can't see anything in the darkness other than the ceiling rafters that holds the roof of the house. He looks to the left of the platform as well, an open space that drops into an empty void.

Or maybe it's not as empty as Baekhyun thought. He spends an inordinate amount of time trying to wrap his brain around what he's currently looking at, but when he realizes, he feels his blood run cold. He's staring into the cold, dead eyes of another human being. What's left of them, anyway, seeing as hordes of maggots squirm around the sallow flesh of their decaying corpse.

Baekhyun lets out a terrified shout. He stumbles backwards out of the closet and falls to the floor. He rolls over onto his hands and knees and empties the contents of his stomach. What the fuck? What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck? That was a person. That was a dead person in Baekhyun's wall. And from the looks of it, it seemed there was more than one body. What the actual fucking fuck? He's trembling, hyperventilating, dry-heaving. He needs to get help. He needs to call someone. He needs to call the police. He _wants _to call Chanyeol.

In the midst of his panic, Baekhyun hears a sound. A creak of floorboards, heavy steps thumping down the stairs. The sound is coming from behind him. Infinitely slowly, Baekhyun turns his head to look towards the closet. He can't fucking breathe. He can't fucking move. From the depths of the darkness emerges a figure. A tall, broad man, whom Baekhyun has never in his life seen before, ducks through the doorway. He looks back at the pit of bodies, then he looks at Baekhyun. “You weren't supposed to see that,” he says.

And Baekhyun screams. He tries to stand, to run, but his legs are wobbly under him. He slips and falls, hands skittering in his own vomit on the floorboards. He can't get up. Desperate, he starts crawling towards the door. He doesn't make it very far before the stranger grabs him by the leg to drag him back. Baekhyun struggles. He kicks and flails and hopes to hit somewhere that hurts. “No, please, no,” he begs. There is snot and tears and puke on his face. “Please, please, please, please.” Something heavy strikes him in the back of the head, and everything goes dark.

  


It's still just as dark when Baekhyun opens his eyes again. His head hurts like it's been run over, and he's dizzy. He tries to look around to figure out where he is, but he finds that his entire body is wrapped up tightly from his ankles all the way up past his mouth. He can't move. He can't scream. All he can do is lay there and listen to the sound of maggots all around him, beneath him, _on _him. With a muffled shout of disgust, he wriggles his bare feet, only to sink further down into the squishy mass of decomposing flesh he's sprawled out on top of. There's something seeping through the plastic he's covered in. He doesn't even want to think about what that something is.

In the darkness, Baekhyun can't tell what time it is. It feels like an eternity later when he hears the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs from the attic. He calls out in an attempt to appeal to the stranger. His words are muffled, but he keeps trying nonetheless. Maybe he can make the stranger listen. Maybe he can convince him to let Baekhyun go. He can pay him. He can move out and let him have the house. He'll do anything.

But the stranger ignores him completely. From down in the pit, Baekhyun can see him pushing open the closet backboard, watches him go through the opening. Then he hears water running in the bathroom. Then, later, pots and pans scrambling in the kitchen. It's all coming together now. This whole time. The lack of hot water. The missing food. The feeling of never quite being alone in the house. It was the stranger all along.

When the stranger returns, pulling the wooden board back in place behind himself, Baekhyun tries screaming for him again. Once more, the stranger doesn't even spare him a single glance as he walks up the stairs. And that's when Baekhyun knows he's going to die here. Just like the people before him.

  


Baekhyun has always been known for being strong-willed. He doesn't give up easily, even when he probably should. Jongdae says it's because he's a stubborn asshole. Baekhyun can't help but laugh to himself at the irony of that as well as the last conversation they had. Not only had he been right that Baekhyun should get the fuck out of this house, he's also right about him being a stubborn asshole. Baekhyun was too stubborn to let go of this place, too stubborn to stop looking for the attic. And now he's here, in a pile of bodies, and he's going to die. He doesn't give up easily, but he's given up on fighting the inevitable.

He counts the stranger coming and going three times in total. He never leaves the attic for very long at a time, nor does he leave it very often. It seems he only goes out to shower and eat. It's the only method Baekhyun has of keeping track of time passing. Does three times mean three days? Has he been here for three days? It's hard to tell when he feels so disoriented, hovering in and out of consciousness. The throb at the base of his skull hasn't gotten any less painful, and his mouth is dry. His clothes are soaked through, partially from the liquifying bodies, partially from all the times he's had to relieve himself. The smell of rot and piss makes him nauseous.

  


Baekhyun thinks he's dreaming it when he hears a car outside. It's wishful thinking, it must be. The knocking on the door is a figment of his imagination. He can't get his hopes up for anything. But then he hears Chanyeol calling out for him from inside the house. Baekhyun is so fucking happy he told Chanyeol where his spare key is.

Chanyeol is talking about how he got worried when Baekhyun didn't pick up his phone for days, and that it's alright if the sex was just a one time thing, but he'd like it if Baekhyun would just tell him that. Honestly, Baekhyun doesn't listen very closely to his words. It's the least of his worries at the moment. He looks around frantically, trying desperately to figure out how the fuck he's going to get Chanyeol's attention when he's tied up in a pit.

The inner wall. Where does it lead to? What's on the other side of that wall? Baekhyun wracks his brain to think about the layout of the house. The boiler room. It's the boiler room. Gathering the last of his energy, he manages to roll over onto his stomach. He's face down in mush, he can feel maggots writhing against his skin, and he squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to breathe in through his nose. He flips over again until he hits the wall with a thud. He tries not to think about how the body he's on top of right now feels distinctly smaller than his own.

“Baekhyun, your car is outside, I know you're here somewhere,” Chanyeol is saying. He sounds so close Baekhyun almost feels like he could reach out and touch him if he really tried. “Please, can we just talk?” With all his might, Baekhyun slams his feet into the wall. Chanyeol has gone silent. Baekhyun tries again, even harder this time. He swears he feels something crack in one of his toes. “Baekhyun?” Baekhyun sobs. He kicks the wall. He slams his head against the wall. There's a tentative knock from the other side, and Baekhyun actually starts crying. He screams at the top of his lungs, not caring that his voice is muffled. All that matters is that Chanyeol can hear him. Chanyeol can save him. “Fuck, okay, hang on, I'll be right back.”

Baekhyun has been here in a pile of dead bodies for three days with no food, no water, nothing to occupy himself with other than his own thoughts, and yet the time it takes for Chanyeol to return feels longer than any other stretch of time. Baekhyun keeps glancing up at the platform to see if the stranger has heard what's going on. He wants to be saved, but he doesn't want Chanyeol to get hurt in the process. Thankfully, there's no sight of the stranger. He doesn't come lumbering down the stairs like Baekhyun fears he would. There's just darkness and silence.

Baekhyun is startled by the sound of boards creaking. By now he seems to have developed some sort of panic response to that specific noise. At first, he thinks it's the stranger after all, but then he realizes it's coming from the wall. He shuffles back a little just as the first wooden plank comes loose and breaks off. And there is Chanyeol, holding a crowbar. He takes a step back, clearly overwhelmed by the smell. Baekhyun calls out for him, and Chanyeol takes a peek through the gap, eyes widening in shock when he spots Baekhyun.

The second plank is removed, then the third, and when Chanyeol is working on the fourth plank, Baekhyun hears the one thing he didn't want to hear: footsteps coming from above. He doesn't waste any time looking. Urgently, he wriggles towards the opening, which is just barely big enough now for Chanyeol to drag him through. The jagged edges of the wood slices through both Baekhyun's bindings and his skin, but he doesn't care.

Chanyeol pulls down the plastic that covers Baekhyun's mouth, expression poised for a question. Baekhyun doesn't let him speak. “Get out,” he croaks. His voice is barely audible, hoarse from screaming and from disuse. He tries until his words are clear enough. “We need to get out, hurry, backdoor.” Even if his words don't make much sense, the urgency in his tone is enough to make Chanyeol react immediately. He picks Baekhyun up and starts running.

  


  


  


  


The amount of people at the book signing event really shouldn't surprise Baekhyun as much as it does. His story about the dancer and the physiotherapist had become an instant success, and at the same time people had also been equal parts appalled and intrigued by what had happened to him at the house. Baekhyun's manager, Joonmyun, had told him that he didn't have to answer any questions he didn't feel comfortable with, but Baekhyun finds that being open about it had helped him overcome his trauma. Who knew that talking about your feelings is healthy?

It's late in the day, now, and Baekhyun is starting to grow exhausted. He doesn't know how many signatures he has signed at this point, but he lost count around two hundred. He clenches and unclenches his hand to work out a cramp as the next person steps up to his desk, and he takes their book out of their large hands to sign it, autopilot fully kicked in. “Can you make it out to 'Golden Retriever'?” asks a familiar voice, and Baekhyun lifts his head to look up at Chanyeol. It's been a few months since they saw each other. Chanyeol looks about the same, just with a little more control over his hair. “I'm a big fan, mr. Byun. I've read all of your work.”

Baekhyun scoffs. He writes his signature for the thousandth time and hands the book back to Chanyeol. He keeps a hold of it when Chanyeol tries to take it, though. “If you were such a big fan, you would know that this book is already dedicated to Golden Retriever.” Chanyeol just smiles, fond. It's so oddly comforting. Baekhyun swallows around the lump in his throat. “Is your phone number still the same?”

  


Chanyeol is waiting for Baekhyun in front of the coffee shop they agreed to meet at. He looks so good. It's almost like Baekhyun had forgotten how attractive Chanyeol is in the time they haven't seen each other. They order a cup of coffee each and a piece of carrot cake to share, and they sit at one of the tables closer to the back of the shop, away from the windows. “How've you been?” Chanyeol asks.

“Good,” Baekhyun says. “Busy.” After what happened, he had poured himself intensely into working on his book. If he stayed focused on that story, he didn't have to think about his own. But it was an unhealthy coping mechanism, and at the first late night talk show where they had asked about his experience, Baekhyun had on a whim decided to answer all questions truthfully and openly and found that it was a great relief. A lot more channels had reached out for him to make an appearance after that. “What about you?”

“Great.” Chanyeol stirs his coffee, breaking up the foam art on top of it. Aesthetic bloggers are rolling over in their graves. “I moved here, actually. I'm studying to become a music teacher.” He smiles wryly. “My parents weren't too pleased about me going back to pursuing music, so they didn't want to help me financially. I've saved up money from working at the store, and I have a part time job now.” He looks down, sheepish. “Ah, I'm rambling again.”

Baekhyun doesn't mind, not at all. As usual, listening to Chanyeol speaking is very soothing. “That's amazing, Chanyeol,” he says. “I'm glad you decided to give music another shot.”

“I guess I just realized that life's too short to not take chances, to not follow your dreams.” He glances up at Baekhyun, and Baekhyun wonders if what had happened to Baekhyun had acted as a sort of wake up call for Chanyeol as well. Baekhyun hums and slices a bite of cake off with his tiny fork. “I really wanted to see you,” Chanyeol continues. “Right after everything that happened, you were so...” He trails off, like he doesn't know how to finish his sentence. Baekhyun wouldn't know how to, either.

He doesn't remember a lot about what happened immediately after. He remembers Chanyeol carrying him to his truck and driving away. He remembers Chanyeol taking him to the hospital. He remembers Chanyeol holding him while he cried and cried and cried. Everything other than that is what he has been told by others. He was treated for dehydration, got several shots and had the nasty gash at the back of his head stitched up. He talked to the police. Jongdae had shown up at some point, and later Kyungsoo as well. Chanyeol had stayed with Baekhyun the entire time. If Baekhyun really concentrates, he has a vague recollection of these things, but it feels like someone else's memories rather than his own. It's like his brain has tried to erase them.

He also knows the things that are widely known facts by now, what the news had put out. The stranger's name was Robert Dixon, and he had been born and raised in that house by a single mother, who had kept him isolated from everyone else. When his mother had died, Robert didn't have what it took to pay for utilities, and so he had been evicted. Except he didn't move out. He hid in the attic during the day and came out at night when everyone else was asleep. After the first time he was discovered by new owners, he had put up the closet to hide himself. Last Baekhyun heard, the investigators were still trying to figure out how many people were in the pit.

“I'm really sorry about how I treated you,” Baekhyun says, now. Chanyeol had been nothing but kind to him, extremely supportive and caring and willing to help in any way possible, and yet Baekhyun had run away as soon as he had the chance. He hadn't answered any of Chanyeol's calls or texts. Thinking about Chanyeol made him think about the house, so at the time it was easier to just not talk to him at all, and when enough time had passed, Baekhyun was too ashamed to make contact again.

“Hey.” Chanyeol reaches across the table to put his hand on top of Baekhyun's. The size difference is striking. Something hot and heavy stirs in Baekhyun's gut, something closer to affection than arousal. “Don't worry about it. You were going through a lot.”

“That doesn't excuse deliberately shitty behavior,” Baekhyun says. He can't even count the amount of times he's been mad at himself for being such a stupid idiot by creating this chasm between himself and Chanyeol. They could have had something great. Chanyeol opens his mouth to speak again, and Baekhyun can just tell he's going to keep protesting, so he cuts him off: “My therapist says that the first step to forgiving yourself is apologizing to the people you've wronged. Will you please just accept it?” Chanyeol's lips stretch out in a thin line. He doesn't seem very happy about it, but he doesn't say anything else. Baekhyun rolls his eyes in fond exasperation. They're both stubborn assholes.

There's a beat of silence as they both sip their coffee that is now sufficiently cooled down. Baekhyun can see the three college aged girls a few tables over shooting surreptitious looks in their direction while whispering amongst each other. He wonders if they know, who he is. Maybe they just find Chanyeol as attractive as Baekhyun does. “I heard they want to make a documentary on Robert Dixon,” Chanyeol says, glancing at Baekhyun like he's nervous about his reaction.

“Yeah, I heard that too,” Baekhyun says calmly. “They asked me to do an interview for it.”

“What did you say?”

Baekhyun shrugs. “Still in the considering phase. I'm not sure what it would do for my mental state.” He starts tearing the paper napkin under the carrot cake into small pieces. “I've been thinking about writing a book, actually. I've been told writing about something traumatic can be a good way to clear your mind.” He sighs and sprinkles the bits of paper across the tabletop like a dusting of snow. “It'll have to wait for a while, though. Promoting my current book has been brutal.”

“You've done a lot,” Chanyeol agrees. “I saw you on that morning show.”

“Which one?” Baekhyun asks, laughing dryly. He's been on most of them by now. “Did you like it? The book?” For some reason, Chanyeol's opinion in particular means a lot to him.

Chanyeol purses his lips in thought. “It was really good,” he comments after a moment. “Felt symbolic, in a way.” It's funny. Kyungsoo had said the same thing after his first reading of the completed work, and Baekhyun had stubbornly denied it even though he knew full well that it was the truth. Chanyeol shifts in his seat. Baekhyun knows he's gathering the courage to ask something that scares him a little. Since when did Baekhyun learn to read him so well? “That character... it's me, right?” Ah. There it is.

Baekhyun buys himself some time by taking another sip from his cup. They've been talking more than drinking, so the coffee is lukewarm by now. “It is,” Baekhyun admits, then grimaces. “I'm sorry, I should have asked for permission.”

Chanyeol waves his hand dismissively. “It's fine. I kind of like it, I just...” He pauses. Licks his lips. Furrows his brow as he tries to figure out how to continue. Baekhyun is so captivated by his every expression. “I guess I just wanted to know if it's true to life. Is that really how you see me?”

The character in Baekhyun's book, the one he accidentally but completely on purpose based on Chanyeol, had come along when the protagonist was feeling his absolute lowest. With him, he had brought warmth and joy and optimism. His smile was sunshine, and the protagonist didn't mind going blind staring at it forever. He had saved the protagonist from his demons and essentially from himself. “Yes,” Baekhyun admits. But it feels too significant, too serious, so he adds with a crooked grin: “I mean, you literally saved my life.”

Something like disappointment flashes through Chanyeol's eyes. That probably wasn't the reply he wanted to hear. “Not that,” he says. Suddenly, it's that night on the couch in Baekhyun's living room all over again. _Am I beautiful? Do you like me? _Chanyeol frowns. “You know what? Nevermind. It's stupid.” He sits back in his chair and drinks the rest of his coffee in one go. Baekhyun can feel Chanyeol slipping through his fingers.

They could have had something great, and now Baekhyun has been given another chance to make that happen. Life's too short to not take chances. “Everything I wrote in that book is exactly how I feel about you,” Baekhyun says. He says it slowly to make sure Chanyeol catches every word, to make sure Chanyeol understands that he means it.

And Chanyeol's smile really _is _sunshine when it's as big and bright as it is right now. He hides it quickly, cheeks tinted rosy as he stares down at his empty cup. “Oh,” he says, pleased. “Okay.” The girls at the other table titter when Baekhyun leans in to kiss Chanyeol, but he doesn't care. From now on, Baekhyun is going to live.

**Author's Note:**

> this story was brought to you by me binging creepypasta videos at ass am during my summer break, which got me thinking "what if there was a stranger living in your walls", and then I had to live with that fucking idea. 
> 
> new life was breathed into the story when I watched bong joonho's 'parasite', from where the title of this story is blatantly thieved (the working title was 'spoopy house', which is definitely a lot less intimidating). what a wild fucking ride that movie is.
> 
> I spent a good few weeks existing in a weird headspace of "how long does it take for a body to decompose?" and "what do maggots sound like?". I'm still slowly working my way out of it, but I sure do know a lot of facts about maggots now!
> 
> anyway. happy halloween! :)
> 
> ps. [Tip Jar](https://ko-fi.com/A562AF1)


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